


when I close my eyes

by shadesofzayn



Category: One Direction (Band), Skins (UK)
Genre: Angst, Based on a One Direction Song, Bristol, F/M, Going Home, Memories, Mental Breakdown, Nostalgia, One Shot, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Skins AU, Skins First Generation, Smoking, Strangers to Lovers, based on lyrics, four - Freeform, skins - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 01:02:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4686377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadesofzayn/pseuds/shadesofzayn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jal's back after four years. Bristol is just like she left it. She drove by the cemetery on her way home. She didn't have the strength to go in. See him. Everything seems unchanged but it's  just not the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when I close my eyes

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been re watching skins and the first generation will always be the best in my eyes. I've got a huge soft spot for jal and i really hope we would find out what happened to her and the rest of the cast aside from cassie. So here we go. This is kind of me satisfying my needs. It's based on " once in a lifetime" by one direction. I got the idea for this in the shower just a few hours ago. I hope you enjoy it. xx

She didn't know how she got there. She was just sick of the walls of her old house weighting her down, reminding her how little and how much had changed in four years time. Her brothers had moved out and found a place in London. They actually made a shit load of money from the t-shirt business their father agreed to help with and were now working on their first album. She couldn't bear how quiet the house was now. Her father was locked in the studio most of times and she found herself laying in her room - that was exactly the same since her last year at college- all alone with memories of people she hadnt seen in ages and things that she would never forget. 

She remembers that exactly four years ago, she and Michelle hid under her duvet. She remembers whispering the hardest thing she ever had to say, because saying it out loud was making it official. She remembers how Michelle had hugged her right after and how she hadn't wanted to leave that bed because nobody was waiting for her. Or maybe they were, but they were dead and laying in a coffin instead of stoned and laying naked on a bed. 

She swallows back the lump that formed at the bottom of her throat. Chris was dead. She still had nights where she'd wake up crying after a dream of him still being alive, of _them_ still together, of her and Chris and a baby boy that had eyes just as bright as his father's. She remembers trying to party after hearing the news which was Michelle's idea to take her mind off it, so of course it didn't work. 

She hasn't seen Michelle in ages. Not since the summer before their first uni year. She hadn't heard from her either, but word had it that she got engaged to some really rich football player on her third year of uni and quite. Knowing Michelle it wouldn't really surprise her. She missed her, specially when she comes back home to absolutely no one. Sid had utterly disappeared after flying to new York to find Cassie. Tony was actually the only one she still saw around sometimes, the only one that bothered reaching out from time to time. She doesn't really know what Anwar and Maxxie turned up to, but she was sure they were just fine. She just fucking missed their group. How they were always together. Who on earth thought they'd ever grow apart ? Not her. She actually had the naivety to think they'd keep in touch, meet up on holidays, attend each other's weddings, ... or just _be together_ like one big family. Always.

She knows it's nobody's fault in particular, but it still hurts. It hurts to grow apart. It hurts to be alone and forgotten when you never forgot them.

Right now though, it felt like a stabe to the heart when she realised where her feet had lead her. She freezes, takes a deep breath and closes her eyes tight enough to see splashes of color behind her eyelids. She was somehow standing in front of the appartement Chris and her first made love in. She was standing right in front of the door that lead to the small kitchen that Chris never took the time to clean, a few foots away from the miniscule closet that was meant to be a bedroom but was actually too uncomfortable and too tiny for anything other than long make out sessions and cuddling away from Cassie's eyes. She reopened her eyes, her vision was now blurry and she couldn't stop the tears from falling but she notices the door is ajar. It has been a while since she last cried. A while since she allowed herself to think about him and realise how much she misses him still. It's some kind of trick she's learned to do in the dark of her dorm room, while her roommate was snoring and she had no one to seek comfort in. She would just close her eyes and pretend she was someone else, pretend she was 30 and she had a a different life where Chris and Jal were never a thing and where she didn't have to choose abortion instead of letting her baby live. It worked most of times, but not now.

She doesn't exactly know what to do. Knock on the door and ask for a peek inside or just walk away and pretend she never came here. She knew shed regret walking away, but she didn't want to break down in front of a stranger either. But isn't that better than the play pretend she's been living in for four fucking years ? She deserves a little grief. She deserves to be weak from time to time. She deserves to be able to let the sadness out before it eats her alive. She deserves to remember and not be told to forget. 

She was tired of saying "No" to her mind whenever it mans up enough to wander to a pair of blue eyes brighter than any other she's seen. So she thinks " Fuck it for Chris" as she knocks on the doors, only instead of someone answering it, it sways open. She takes a deep breath and pokes her head inside.

The kitchen is the exact same, small cupboards, broken drawers, a crumbling white paint covering them up. It's cleaner though, nothing on the counter, no leftovers, just a few dishes in the sink. So someone's living here, she thinks as she walks past the kitchen. The couch Chris and her first kissed on is at the exact same place it had been when she last saw it. Cassie used to sleep on the couch when she moved in so it was always messy with filters, weed, clothes and even condoms loaded with cum occasionally. It was now tidy only covered with a blanket and she had to stop herself from curling up in a ball on it and pretend the warmth behind her isn't a stupid blanket but Chris. She has to force herself away from it. 

There's a telly that's on and some show about African lions playing. She can't help but wonder who the hell watches animals shows on a Saturday night instead of going out and partying, but then again it might be some old woman or man which would explain how clean and small the place is. She walks up to the double door and opens it. Her hands are shaking, and she can't help the sobs escaping her as she sees the little white mattress she spent so many nights and days in. She fucking conceived a baby on that mattress. She fucking fellIin love on that mattress. That mattress in a silly tiny closet in a ridiculously small appartement in the middle of Bristol is where she had the best time of her life. The memories that she knows will never fade away. So she can't really help but take off her heels, throw away her jacket and crawl in bed, curling under the duvet that smells nothing like Chris anymore and more like baby shampoo and tea bags.

***

There's a soft sound that seems to be calling her from miles away. She can't really hear what it's saying but she squeezes her eyes tighter and shifts in bed. She probably slept with the TV on again. There's a hand touching her arm slightly and the voice is clearer now. She slowly blinks, her vision is dazed for a few moments she can't see anything but a vague figure. She blinks again and she's met with a pair of shiny green eyes looking at her in confusion. 

" Fuck. " is all she manages as she sits up straight.

" ugh .. it's actually Harry." The man says smiling and clearly amused.

" huh ? " she rubs her eyes and looks around, she must have slept in Chris' old appartement last night.

" I said I'm harry. Harry styles." The man speaks more seriously now. His bows are kind of furrowed and he looks at her intently. " I just walked into my house last night, after helping a lovely neighbour on mine with her meds, to find a stranger in my bed." 

She doesn't know what to say. It's too early for her to process anything or maybe she just hasn't slept properly in what felt like years.

" I didn't want to bother you by wake get you up so I just slept on the couch." He explains. " and I mean ... not to be rude or anything but .. how did you get in here ? I mean yeah I left the door ajar .. but like .. why ? Did someone kick you out ? " he asks then adds quickly" you could stay for a few days if that's what happened. I don't mind. Just tell me your name, maybe ? " 

She burries her face in her hands. There are tears threatening to slide down her cheeks and she doesn't want to cry in front of a stranger so she gathers a all her will to push them back and stand up. 

" I'm Jalanda. Jal." she starts." I used to live here .. well not me. A friend of mine. He's .. " her voice cracks and she closes her eyes tight picturing chris' grave. " he's .. dead. I haven't been here in like five years. " tears were now burning her eyes. " I was just walking around town and I found my self here and I couldn't help it .. I'm sorry I broke into your house." 

She put on her heels, trying to ignore the humiliating liquid staining her face. Harry just sat on the couch, his eyes studying her in silence. When she reached for her jacket he stopped her.

" he wasn't just a friend. Was he ? " He asked, voice really low like he was afraid to break something inside of her.

She let's her arms fall by her sides, taken aback by the question.

" No. " she answers, voice tightening. " No, he wasn't. "

Harry just pushes her jacket away and grabs her hand squeezing it like a sort of confort, like he's trying to say that it is fine not to want to forget. 

" Care to stay and have breakfast with me ? " he asks with a ghost of a smile. " I just moved here and I've been lonely. No one wants to talk to a stranger except Georgia, my neighbour. She's eighty and she's my only friend around here, she says I make great cupcakes. I bet i still have some in the freezer." 

Jal wonders who the hell would want to have breakfast with someone who broke into their house instead of kicking them out and calling the police. She just squeezes his hand, sits next to him and smiles back. And this time it really reaches her eyes.

" Yeah ... I don't have much friends either. Not anymore." 

He gets up and disappears in the kitchen with one last warm glance, as if to say _thanks_. She closes her eyes and she can see Chris sticking a paper with " yes" on her forehead. Chris would be proud, she was keeping her promise and saying "yes" and " Fuck it" instead of no. Chris was her once in a life time but for the first time ever she actually felt like going back to Bristol, to where everything had begun, was worth it. 

_She could do this._


End file.
